Goa goa goa goa..shut up!

So I'm trying to meander through the grassy pathways that makes my favorite place. Although no one can convince me to walk through a leafy doubtfully snake-infected way like this usually, but for some spots I try to make my brain think otherwise. Even though in my altered state of consciousness, looming visions of snakes griping at my bare legs through the gaps are frequent, I still push it away. I'm thinking Oh I'm so happy, no one irritating is with me right now and I have something planned. Those lamps are pretty, should ask where to buy them. Why do these people sell EVERYWHERE? Who buys anything here? It's the same shit everywhere...this stuff looks especially old. She's standing in some muddy tatters..her hair is stringy. Do you want this? No. My eyes are saying it. But they are fixed the other side. Do you want this? You know how cheap it is? Now it's just the lamps and lost eyes. It's cheaper than us. I walk on. Gotta do something stronger. Something like this follows you. To remind you of something. I wonder what

How Daft is that

I downloaded Untrue by Burial today. What a mind-blowing album. This recent discovery just reinforces my long-held belief that Whitelight should really be my best friend.I feel like making a huge banner scribed with GET IT and flagging it outside my house. And then get t shirts printed with the logo. You know, word of mouth advertising. And someone so brilliant wants to be anonymous? It's a crazy world. If I was that guy, I would have bought myself a house in Bristol and make journalists scamper around for my radical sound bytes. Anyways, so I also got Shocking Pinks which is another indie wonder. And Between Voices by Anti Atlas. The fact that Chris Hufford, manager of Radiohead and Supergrass, is the man behind this outfit might have something to do with the the kind of music it generates. Although if someone downloads this album based on the kind of bands he manages, then please don't come back here to swear at me. It's not as phenomenal as I expected it to be. Now trip hop is probably my favorite genre, so maybe I'm not impressed by yet another hotch-potch of Icelandic totand Japanese vocalists to make the album sound suitably global and inversely, exotic. It's nice, but I might not put it on after a month.

Daft Punk is downloading right now. Been searching Alive, live set for 2 hours now. Everything has been already deleted, now let's hope this is not another empty file. This is one band I'm dying to watch live.

You look at something like this and I get this sinking feeling. Because I'm here. And forced to make do with events like the Sunburn festival where a target of 10,000 people showing up is considered ambitious by most. Now the line-up is good, but there aren't enough funds to have systems that'll reach up the sea. So you're going to have something like this, and then force people to get jostled like ants with no dancing space because the music can't reach wide enough. Last I heard they are going to have sniffer dogs to detect drugs. WTF? And this is at an electronic gig! But how can I blame them, that's how things work here. You first have to suck up to State officials who want free tickets as well as their own sweet conditions on how exactly people should party. If this issue wasn't frivolous, maybe more people would be concerned. I feel like guffawing when people like Nikhil Chinappa proclaim that guys, you don't need drugs to enjoy music. Man, people were fried listening to Velvet Underground. And you're trying to tell me that you're brilliant enough for me to dance on your tunes for 3 hours sober? Seriously? Hahahahahaha

Wake up for pancakes...

This is probably the most testing aspect of my personality, my inability to sleep. Or rather, the propensity to sleep at odd timings. Sometimes it strikes me as really unfair, as I miss out on so much bright cheerio sunshine part of the day. Also, day time is better because things get busy and it makes you distracted enough to fret on mundane things. Nights are something else. It's just you, there are people I can call and yak my night through, but sometimes there's no balance and most of the times no one seems engaging enough. There are certain limits to which you can have mindless conversations with people on Messenger, and not too many awake at 4 am anyway except firang idiots who have yet another question pertaining to their ever-increasing plans for Goa. Really, I don't get this hyper-ventilation over South Asian travel. If you're already so chicken shit, don't bother coming here anyway. Don't fucking stand with me at Khan Market and gobble 3 malaria pills before downing your kebabs. Really, how gay is that. How come you didn't get your mommy too.
I spent some time trying to make my blog look different. But I found nothing that made me interested enough to discard familiarity. Blogger is so predictable. Only for Oh I've been doing Photoshop since I was 6 kind of people. Everybody I know is crazy about Photoshop, and they use it generously to make themselves look marginally attractive or more intriguing on Facebook. Actually, it's pretty dumb for me to crib because if I was an Adobe expert, I would do that too!
So night time is my time. I stay awake most nights on the computer making Google my best friend. So now I know enough about the Boom Festival to book my tickets for 2008. And I also know that Neil Armstrong saw alien spaceships on the moon, owing to which there have been no further excursions to the moon. Then I try to watch television which is always a bad idea that lasts for exactly 5 minutes. Tv is something that I just need in my house, in case I'm dying to watch something live. Like the news. But once it's there, I end up watching it twice a month. And I vowed to myself that I'll only commence my viewership once Shahrukh Khan is done with the promotion of his movie. Because if I'm subjected to yet another sight of him on any channel now, I swear I'll cut my hair, put on red lipstick and run naked on the streets. Why, I don't know. Right now, that really seems crazy.
This is something I do when I'm not trying to convince myself that there are chances that self will fall asleep. So I try to bury myself in blankets so that the warmth makes me drowsy, sometimes read Ramachandra Guha to make me sleepier. Nothing happens, I stay wide awake thinking of how I have nothing planned for the next day and it will truly suck if my mom sees me first thing in the morning yet another time. And then she'll make her ancient call center joke. Then I'll bug my maid to make breakfast. I'll read the newspaper, crib on how there's nothing else to read, not pick up my phone, in case I do, make excuses to people wanting to meet, like how I'm too unwell or too busy with nothing in particular. The thought of staying awake and interacting with someone in a bar in Delhi, thinking of the old times makes me nervous. Mostly because I remember nothing. And if I do recall snippets, those are not enough to last 3 hours with someone. There are others who I meet once a year, and hence not important enough. I wonder, am I turning into a sociopath? Or it's just that I suffer from abominably high standards.



Have been listening to the Thaw Sessions lately. A lot. Why do most people like to diss Verve? Yes, they sucked after Urban Hymns, but that's what happens when retards deviate musicians from the main purpose by treating them like God. And when they start to think that they are indeed God, You just act pish tosh about it, labeling it too commercial for your taste. Hahaha. Actually, I've never been a huge Verve listener, but if these 14 minutes are a true sampler of what the rest of the album is going to sound like, I may just become one.

Drama Queen

Hmmmm. So what should I say? That posts written at 3 in the morning ought not to be trusted. That it's too much of a hassle to make another blog. That writing all this longhand will be a chore and will need to buy newer journals every month. That although I wasn't 'forced' to continue, it's still nice. And that it'll be frustrating if I have to say all this to someone who feels obliged to respond, when he's clearly ill-quipped to come up with anything remotely helpful.And that I can see the point of posterity. So tadaaaaaa...I love faceless people.

*******

Saw Mighty Heart yesterday. Is it a deliberate attempt to shoot it in that documentary frame so that people take it more seriously? Good to see Hollywood producers having the sense to do at least that. After watching a real story, I went on my usual business of searching on every little detail about the movie. Now this man was your average Stanford graduate out to change the world with the power of the mighty pen. I'm tempted to dismiss such personalities as being too yuppie for their own good, in a South Asian country that is clearly dangerous and unreceptive to Americans in general where he was out interviewing a jehadi. What did he expect? Rogan josh and tid-bits on recruitment procedures? How can these firangs be so goddamn naive. And how can journalists in general be so goddamn naive. You don't really earn the right to delve into anything you bloody well please just because you have a press card. I think journalism makes the average rookie think that he's infallible. That he isn't the common man anymore because he can expose all the dirty details. But who the hell is listening? Like this recent Tehelka thing about Modi. Does it affect the Gujarati businessmen who are going to vote for Modi anyway. Or does it affect the riot victims who saw Kar Sevaks bursting open wombs. Or the plethora of journalists who believe Modi to be the criminal irrespective of anything else. Mere validation should not make you feel so great about all that you're doing. And judging by the methods employed to sensationalize something that needs a bit more drama, who is going to believe them anyway. It's terrible, but why do the wrong people have to be touchy about the right things whenever they feel like.
The media wasn't so gung-ho about caste riots when the Sikhs were burnt in Delhi. Tytler's dismissal was enough for them. And no one talks about it today because Sikhs didn't wail about it too much and went on with their lives, and the Godhra riots are anyway more recent so let's fuck Modi over it. If Godhra is so bad, then why is Congress still an Indian intellectual's favorite party? Of course it's politics and shit happens, but it makes no sense to build up something which you were complicit with some years back.
So Daniel Pearl was that kind of journalist. But whenever you hasten to dismiss someone like him, I read something that makes me cringe. This man refused sedation before his beheading. What sort of a person does that? Where do you get the courage to do that. And for what purpose. Is this the sort of world wherein you can romanticize the idea of a revolution. He rebelled against discrimination for his identity. I'm Jewish and if you're going to cut my head over it then so be it. You hear that and you feel that he was a hero. It's only the average joe who would think that. And make Hanukkah videos for Pearl's son so that he knows how brave his father was. But the problem with authority persists. Apparently his wife had to withdraw her case in Pakistan against the perpetrators because she had a tussle over legal fees with the Wall Street Journal. This is how being a revolutionary makes no damning sense. These people are going to make you believe that you have the power to do something different, that there were hundreds before you but you are going to be the one. So go ahead and prove that US bombed a civilian factory instead of weapons of mass destruction as they falsely claimed. Go ahead and bust your ass somewhere in Pakistan with your pregnant wife because the answers you'll get are going to make the world a better place. And these are the people who are going to endanger their own people by handing over information to the CIA and then warm their hands away from it calling it routine procedure in the general interests of the country. Who the fuck is crazy then. The jehadis who are not beating around the bush of what they want, or these fake fuckers who are driving more and more people on to a path that doesn't exist.
I once worked on the US sponsored torture all over the world and the stuff out there is really something else. You can't exhibit such outrage when you are doing worse to Arabs in Cuban prisons. Such hysteria over the beheading of a white Jew looks laughable when under trials who are 'merely' suspected of being jehadis are being shipped to Uzbekistan torture centers so that confessions can be forced out of them. You have a nexus that circulates all over West and Central Asia on the ridiculous pretexts of self-defense, and then you blame this community for being paranoid of your intentions? That's fucking great, that someone can do an Iraq in this world and still have the balls to condemn emergency in Pakistan. What in the hell are they so worried about? Wasn't Musharraf's presidency supported by the American agencies since forever. And anyone with a functioning brain could foretell these course of events from him. It's getting more sinister.. this blaming business centered over where you come from. And the presence of American and British powers is just making it murkier.
If they consider themselves a paramount authority on world peace and the country that has the responsibility to restore democracies and propagate dummy governments, then why is there such silence over the events in Myanmar. Is the American manpower not enough to topple the militia? I feel that even a large part of this Arab and Jewish animosity is being fueled for American self-interest. If they hate each other more, then there's less time to hurt the Americans. Such a wonderful country, then is it surprising that I have never been there on principle. Missing out on airport check-ins regulated by the colour of my skin. And of geographically challenged Americans opinionating on the dismal state of democratic choices in South Asian countries. Sometimes it's best to be a soft power, you have to be too ugly to retain number one. And I'm good with that.

Bye bye capsule

So this is it. I was hoping to do this for some time and tonight has been a decent catalyst. This blog is over. And it makes sense to me too, what do I write about lately anyway? A lot of people here can translate what they feel in better words. But no matter how bottomless I feel, it still looks less sinister on paper. That bothers me. I started to blog thinking that there's no one I can actually talk to. So maybe I ought to try this. You have so many terrible secrets, spill it out anonymously and no one will know. But it wasn't so simple. Even something as simple as this has been page 3-ised by too many people. Some ar apparently publishing books over their fictitious online personalities and people are buying it. What does that have to do with me? Nothing much, except that it riles me up. The hesitant thought before you think of telling someone that you feel they are full of crap riles me up. You as it is can't do it for real, now is it so difficult to do it with masks on too? That bothers me.
I did it because no one knew me here. Especially a certain someone. Now if I count, 5 people reading this blog know about my identity. Not that I'm writing of my bedroom escapades with assorted strangers, but it still bothers me. It's because when you write something as random as this, I really do not need the wrong people to read half of it and fill up the other half with what they judge. That in itself should have stopped me long time back. But I didn't, and I poured some more and now the shit is flying off the wall.
Maybe there's nothing wrong with anyone at all and it's just me. It's probably just me. How come I develop newer issues with every medium? How come my randomness gets me into trouble everytime?
It's just predictable. The moment something starts to make sense, it's taken away from you. Not that I'm being honest here anyway, so fuck it. It's too late to call anyone, and there's no one to call. Now that's an honest admission. I wouldn't tell anyone that. Would I tell anyone that I can feel something creeping from behind? And that nothing feels good anymore. And that after loving my body for some time, I feel like damaging it again.
Have read some interesting people here. Will miss someone else going like oh, I so know what you're talking about. So it's back to capsule.

Waiting and wishing

It's really pathetic that I'm actually contemplating if I should write another 'I'm so sick of marriages I could kill someone' kind of post in here again, but that's what I want to write about, in addition to other things sooo.. My mother is tripping around the house and calling 7 people every minute, and then exchanging details of those talks with me. Strange, if a relative of mine got married every month, me and mom would be in the Hall of Fame for best buds till we die. Now my mom is usually finicky about money, I think it's more to do with her upbringing than anything else. Or maybe the exorbitant amounts I seem to be expending on useless material pursuits. So I was obviously shocked when my mother suggested that why don't you get your make-up done from some fancy salon because you're a silly girl who can't put liner the right way, and anyway, all the other girls are doing it. Hmmmmm.I was silent as I swallowed the insult. None of the men I've been with have had the balls to say something like that to me. Is it possible that my mother thinks I'm ugly? Poooof...channeling mind not to veer in this direction. No, I don't want to get dolled up with blush and liner because I aim to be au naturale. And also to be the only girl over there who seems to be sane enough not to want to look like an aging geisha in the environs of a Delhi farmhouse. I know my mother is worried that I should look the best so that she can beam over everyone else, that look, even though my daughter smokes cigarettes and is living alone in another city and is suspect by all of you of being an overtly bigda hua type, she's still better looking than all your daughters put together, so who's eating the pie now eh. Hee hee. Looks like she's equally trivial-minded. Ah. Mother and daughter.

*******

My father was in a strangely introspective mood today. I think something happened with him on his way here and he refuses to tell me about it. He remembered his college bike brought from his own money and how my mother was so happy to have a fiance who had a bike of his own. So you don't need money to have happiness. That's what he concluded. I'm giving you too much too soon, maybe if you waited for things in your life, you would appreciate them more. What do I tell him? That I did wait, for him to talk to me like this. For him to think of how he treats me. For him to dispense time from his whole day on how he's giving me too many 'things' and not anything else. Just yesterday I was having a similar conversation with a guy who got uncomfortable when I talked of all the things I would like to own one day. I don't understand why people get so fidgety whenever you discuss money. As if it's a crime to want things for yourself. It's the second biggest taboo after Indians not having sex like bunnies. What makes me happy? I don't know anymore, but I'm happy when I buy shoes that look too pretty to wear on my feet, and I don't care if it makes me Paris Hilton to think like that. Anything you want, in any which way, costs money. The sooner these people see that, the better it would be for my state of mind.
But he said something so warm. The girls waiting on bus stands, on Delhi roads. They are usually attired on office clothes and must be working in jobs that fetch them 3-5000 bucks a month. Now they don't work for ambition, but it's for need. To satisfy the financial gap in the family. They look uncomfortable waiting for the bus for so long. Because you never know who could touch you. And you've been on your feet all day and want to reach home without having to encounter yet another man on the bus. Any time. They wait for the bus at 9 in the evening. At 10 at night. My father talked of this scene with so much pain, and how he wished he could give a car to each one of them. With drivers. Ha ha.
He seems so different to me some times.

At least he's sorry about the Muslims

Bomb, he shouted as he was led from court to a prison van yesterday.

I feel cold.

Happily...uhhhh

I hate weddings. I really really do. And people willing to get married are retards. I bet everyone finds the whole idea of settling down with 'someone special' really comforting and that's why so many people are ready to sacrifice their dignity and peace of mind just to get married to someone. It's all so fairy tale like and I'm going to spend a bomb on an outfit that'll be worn only for a day and will ship flowers from Slovakia or something. Blehh. All that is okay I guess, it's the dreamy part so everyone buys it. But you just have to get into this marriage system and it gets dirtier and dirtier. And mostly if it's arranged by people in the family, all evening chai conversations in every bludy house revolves around this huge event. I always thought that even if I go fruity enough to think of getting married, the moment these plans and arrangements take their course, I'm really going to call it all off. And run away to Poland.
So these days I see my mom and this mysterious pain swarms my body. She waits for me to wake up and then recounts the entire conversation to me. Not just once, but twice, thrice. I wake up to the sounds of, god these guys are meeting so many times before getting married. Do you think it makes sense? I mean, so and so did this and got bored and called it off.
So it's good no mommy, they'll realize they hate each other sooner and I'll save the 20 grand that you're forcing me to expend on the sari.
Tch, how can you talk such crap? So did I tell you he gave her Dior for her birthday?
Fuckkkkk. Yes, yes, you told me. Yesterday, and the day before that.And on the phone before I came to Delhi. Why did I come here?
And my cousin, the dumbfuck behind this whole hoopla, had called me in a state of shock. Dooood, she wears such terrible jeans. Huh? That's your opinion of her, in entirety? Who are you, gay Manav Gangwani?
But now he's so happy. He's unemployed so doesn't have to think twice before decking himself up like a chick, demanding that shirt and that tie for this event and that. Ooooh, I have got to wear purple because she's wearing that. And he's already dreaming of taking the girl with the ill-fitting denims with him to MOS every night. lol. I think his whole ambition in life is to end up as the sort of couple who have dinner together at the Ivy and then have wine after dinner. And if you want to make it a wee bit more page 3, dahhhling, we just went to Hilton for dessert. It's revolting.
And everybody is talking about money. And who's spending how much and who's giving what to whom. And what are you wearing and blah blah blah. Although I am wearing something totally divine, but that's besides the point. There are apparently billions of pre-functions which constitute a wholesome Indian wedding. I used to naively think that it's just an engagement and then the wedding and then sex in Europe. Or in the Caribbean if you're pretentious enough. Or more traveled, whatever. But apparently there's some roka, then some ring ceremony where no one actually wears a ring it's just a tika kind of thing. And then they wear a ring which is the engagement. Hmmmm.I think I again got it wrong. I'm so going to disappear after this engagement and then resurface a day before the wedding. I owe this to myself. Otherwise they'll break my spirit and make me dance on Salaam E Ishq. With aunties clapping and my cousin's shady friends leering. Aaaaah.
How can anyone just get married because it's 'time' to get married? You haven't really met anyone worth marrying yet,so pass it on to your parents to find someone suitable. And then you have a screwed up dating sort of scene before the weddings, and behold, you're having sex with a stranger in your parent's house and their blessings. And then you have kids and think of quitting your job because he's too busy to bring them up. And then you get fatter because all you do it stay at home because you have post-pregnancy depression. And you connect with friends who also have babies so that you can exchange newer traits of baby behavior. Then you also get fatter and also marginally happier because by then your husband is earning more money. So you trot in gk 1 in Dior sunglasses with your toddler in tow, thinking you're looking like Kate Moss. And then he cheats on you. You're shattered and then you cheat on him. Provided you're still easy on the eye, because everyone knows it's easier for men to get some as they get older. And you haven't read a book since the last 5 years. And the only music you listen to is on the radio. Or what your kid blares out of his computer. No wonder I'm terrified. Maybe it's better for some, but this is the likely scenario for most.
And for the beauty of motherhood, you only have to see a pregnancy documentary once to vow never to let out a baby out of your body. There are enough people already paying serious attention to the cause of reproduction. Not me. Not me.

Bluesy

THIS is why Delhi is all wrong for me. The moment I step in here, all that I had planned against, starts happening mysteriously. It's been 3 years that I've changed my number 6 times. I can give you long sermons on which connection is really the best. In which city. And all this to avoid some person who is definitely not the kind to barrage my privacy with incessant phone calls. Then why do I do it? Just like other idiots who are kidding themselves in this 'modern' world with our ideas of self-imposed private sanctums, I also think that I have the right to disappear from everyone's eyes. And no matter how you delude yourself, switching off your phone is the closest you come to it. Earlier I used to get a thrill after switching it off. It's so pathetic to belong to this generation, where this goddamn gadget is like a fucking albatross around your neck. Oooh look no one can call me so now I'm roaming around naked in maroon robe type. Anyways, so if he doesn't fit into the classic 'stalker' category, it still keeps me sane to be away from him. If I can't hear his voice, and he can't hear mine in any possible way, then everything goes well. Of course I'm bored and everyone seems daft but I'm calm.
And here I am..stupidly staring at this 2 kilo ka phone and that message. How can people just write some tripe after 2 years of seeing you last, in extremely testing circumstances, and make you feel as if you never left off? Nooo, actually it's just him who's capable of such Bollywoodism. The familiarity of this whole exchange with this man makes me hurl. But what's worse is how I lack any semblance of a spine in asking him to fuck off. Did I just agree to meet him? In a week I think. What am I thinking! At least I managed to lay off the 'let's take a holiday together to sort out what we want' plan. It's so sad. Usually I think I'm pretty smart with men, but here, I'm like a fucking Barbie. I KNOW it's all bullshit. I had this shrink who told me that I'm attracted to him because of the lack of a father figure in my life. I knew that long ago. Before that 1000 bucks an hour shrink.
So I'm not going to do it. It'll be interesting to watch how I will manage to NOT sleep with him. And how I will manage to meet him without flashbacks at the trillionth speed. And no, I will not think of interesting places to do it. And no, I will not dwell on a no-strings attached arrangement, because that only works when you're not the one who's Barbie. Watch watch watch.
Just want to watch as to when I'll swim over this chapter in my life. 4 years back I gave it 2 years. Jesus. Maybe people are drawn to particular ex relationships because no one has been able to top them, yet. Yes, it's the only theory that makes sense. So maybe I should not be wary of relationships and actually look for someone, and then walk with him to this ex and then slap him for not being good enough. Because I've found what's good enough. Hmmmmmm. The sheer idiocy...
It's funny how I want to slap so many assorted people. Not all of them have been bad to me. Sometimes I just do. It's such a nice way to end things. Because of the shock value, you are not forced to tolerate those people for too long. Just today I slapped someone for touching me. After a long time. Phataaak.

Dear Diary..

So me and Stud boy and Hyderabadi are in a perpetual state of fluidity. It's like I'm going from this to that but it's not touching me you know. Bah. So finally now the maal is over so I thought I'll see how the world has changed in the last 4 days. Next time I see the world again will be after 4 more days because Hyderabadi will not disappoint me tonight. Of course the powercut laid on us since 8 in the morning contributes to this sojourn. I've been screaming out loud to Stud boy that this is a fucking village because they have long-drawn powercuts man. I mean where does that happen anyway? Didn't this ridiculous place admonish a friend that he can't possibly hang his boxers in the balcony because this is not a fucking chawl you people. What would you know, you illiterate village buffoon. Well guess what, it IS a fucking chawl. There's no fucking water, and now the electricity is giving away too. The guard tells me that I ought to stop paying rent because there's no way in hell I'm getting my obscenely priced deposit back because the broker is a madarchod. The point of all that is that it is a fucking chawl. So then Stud boy reminded me that I ought to stop being hi-brow since Delhi has maximum powercuts on a country level.
So we have back-up man. We can't feel it.

Yeah, so you can get back-up here.

Yeah, just like I can get an AC.

Jokes. Why doesn't Bombay have any powercuts anyway? What's so great about Bombay?
Anyways so me and Stud Boy was talking of how we've been smoking together since the Stone Age and isn't it fucking brilliant. It is actually, if you don't look at it from a perspective that gives me a head-ache. This Nepali guy came over and asked me if I'm really enjoying myself. While I was rolling. So I'm like yes I get what you are saying but I'm not ashamed. You're sitting here feeling up this girl because you finally got a stranger's pad to feel her up. And you both are cheating on your respective partners. And YOU are judging ME? Sweet.
So there was this guy, let's call him Politico. He used to come over and finish everything everytime he had a break-up. It used to annoy some of us because he never used to score. But then you think that it's good that everyone is not scoring and getting wasted because that would be insane. So you let him rip you off. Now this guy has alternate spells of smoking and not smoking, depending on the girl he's dating. Now he's in some fucked up scene with this girl who drives me up the wall. She sounds like a squirrel and tries to be a smart-ass when I'm around. And then tells him not to hang out with me behind my back. And that is because I told him to get done with her for good after she cheated on him and then treated him like a wuss in front of everyone he knew by dangling that pathetic fuck buddy of hers. But now she's got back to her senses because Politico has got a great place and a car and other pretty stuff Bihari girls lust after. It's so funny to see him womble and get embarrassed over nothing. I know he's a loser in love. It's okay. It would be funnier if that bitch could open her mouth in front of me because she's so mentally weak that I can fuck her while I'm fixing a lighter. But no such drama. Sigh.
Then there was this other guy me and Stud boy knew, and he was a darling. He used to score once a month and come back with 2 huge bags. And you never had to step out. He just used to lech, um, in an acceptable way, which I eventually got used to. Stud boy was then my boyfriend and used to get hassled over the whole situation.And it was hilarious because I knew he'll do nothing except fuck my head over it. Now this guy makes launch-pads for missiles and eats butter chicken every night and smokes twice a month. I met him last week, him wearing a blue shirt and beige trousers. Oh man. It was a sight, as if he can't believe that his boxers are tightening up on their own.
Then there were others but I don't remember them. Most of them are classified as cheapskates or easy going. There was this idiot who used to throw up after 3 drags and then blame it on a Gold Flake he smoked in the after noon that messed up his throat. Ya right. Sardars can sometimes be so creative with bullshit. And this other guy who started smoking after I dumped him. Before that he used to hold his stomach complaining that he's drinking too much because I'm harming myself and he'll die because of me so can I please stop killing myself. I smoked up once with him after we broke up, and I don't know if he was trying to convey his allegiance to the 'cause' or something, but he kept breaking the circle and reaching for the stick as if it was candy. For a little kid. It drove me crazy enough to humiliate him a bit more by not giving him any until he heard out a list of rules by me. And he also made the worst joints. They were always too weak, or burning one way or too loose. Which is cool because if you suck at something then you just do right. But this retard had to insist on rolling everything and ask me stupid questions like have you had datura? So want to do coke with me blah blah blah. I wouldn't smoke a cigarette with that asshole. That's so pathetic. These people who claim to HATE something and then use it to suck up to you.
So now there's this Hyderabadi guy who is real funny. He apparently hasn't called his girlfriend in two months because he's trying to get something here. But he knows that he's going to get married to her because she wears salwar kameez. Ah. Some things never change. But he's nice. And also thinks that he's the best looking South Indian boy around. Ha ha ha ha.

Just what is it that is so darn annoying about Ganesh Chaturthi? Is it the generous splattering of the pandals after every kilometer? Or perhaps the sight of half-naked, drunk men dancing on Himesh songs on most of these pandals? Or the pink water that is splashed on exactly the same men from a system of sprinklers fastened on top of poles? I just have no idea. It’s like it’s impossible to pick the best one. I’ve seen Diwali in most North and West Indian states and it’s nothing like this. Even Durga Puja in Calcutta is civil, Bengalis being themselves. Is this some sort of a phenomena that only happens here? The matter being in question the obscenely exaggerated method of celebrating festivals. Even those that have absolutely nothing to do with one’s own religion. I’ve seen this crap on Durga Puja and Christmas too. I understand that the Shiv Sainiks need a booze party in close intervals but why must it have a religious connotation that makes anyone who has a problem with it look like a racist and secessionist prick?
So you can’t say anything in Maharashtra because oh look this State contributes so much tax and the people are generally intolerant about their Gods and warriors so you better not mess with them. Cool, so if I have an insane desire to discuss Shivaji and his conquests in an auto-rickshaw, then I would do so in English. And Muslims shouldn’t really be blamed for their intolerance because oh look the whole fucking world is scheming against them and there are a few chosen people who have to save the day from infidels. So if they paralyze machinery across countries because someone made a Prophet cartoon in some Danish newspaper, then it ought to be totally understood on grounds of secularism, the number of Muslims reading Danish newspapers being what it is. And if M.F. Hussain desires to paint Hindu goddesses in the nude, then for humanity’s sake let him because he’s the most successful artist we’ve ever had and he can’t possibly be expected to explain himself as those Gods belong to India as a whole and we are just the sort of community that likes to be made a joke of. And why do you ask him if he would dare to paint a similar portrait of the Prophet, considering the artist in question has been a devout Muslim his entire life and it would certainly seem more reasonable for him to think of him as a religious figure at times of artistic inspiration? But don’t you know that Muslims are intolerant of that as they can’t make an image of their God and c’mon..we ought to respect that.
So if everyone’s feelings and faith are so widely acknowledged, then why do Hindus get the raw deal? Now I haven’t been to a temple in years, do not know the Gayatri Mantra and am generally agnostic. This is not a question of ‘my people’ and ‘my side’ being treated badly. But even a person like me is incensed at this whole Ram Sethu controversy. Something like this can only happen if the Congress is in power. Why do you have keep hitting against a section of the population just to see how long it’ll take before they get pissed off? The Ramayana may not mean much to me and I would be doubtful of its entire existence. Just like I don’t believe that Muhammad recited the entire Quran in someone’s ear. But the story is so entrenched in my childhood that I always stop and watch if I pass a Ram Lila during Dusshera because it reminds me of my Grandmother. It reminds me of even when she was close to losing all her sensory abilities, her face would still light up in the morning on the way to the temple. And she would sit with us on Dusshera and recount of all that Ram did, and how Sita was the most perfect wife ever. And how Hanuman actually tore his heart out …. And she would be excited. And that was because she was passing on something to me. This was right up with putting mehndi and oil in my hair. And for an illiterate woman who felt confused with my life beyond the house, it was satisfying to pass on heritage. It doesn’t matter to her if, hypothetically, I do believe the Ramayana, then I would surely be disgusted with Sita’s subservience. And declare Ram to be a chauvinist who took so much out of the poor woman, much less a man worthy of worship.
But this is what religion gives to most people. You cannot question the existence for people who believe in what it does for them. It’s like you cannot imagine life without computers, faith is exactly that for more people than you can ever imagine, and it wasn’t even invented in the near past. And if we are mature enough to give it to most religions, then why not Hinduism? Inviting an American agency like NASA to comment on the veracity of the story that is intrinsic to the faith of so many people? Why the hell should they be allowed to decide if the bridge was actually built or not? Are Indian scientists called to comment on the existence of Christ? Or, are navigators called to comment on that? Now it’s just a sleet of corals and let’s not be agitated over that. This is not about the point of having a huge maritime project on a site like that. Technology and money has altered our perception enough for the project to make a lot of sense and even be accepted. But not when all that you believe in is debunked because it’s convenient to do it.




I’ve started watching cricket again. And it’s so much fun to just sit at home and scream like an idiot and have such a wonderful feeling of oneness with everyone around me. Yeah man, the new team is all killer stuff and all Pakis suck. You just say that and life is all bright again. Am I the only one who thinks bowl outs are friggin stupid? Although it was a lot of fun to scream out loud everytime Pakistan missed it, or alternately when India hit it. Now I know why Sehwag was laughing so much. Oooh, look at these dumb fucks, they have all fast paced bowlers, we got spinners, we know how it works so they are suckers. But its fun in an Indo-Pak match, pretty soon it’s going to get so boring because everyone will figure out tricks and it’ll be pointless. And really, it’s like gulley cricket. At least they should have a batsman there. Don’t make it look like a bad copy of football. But oh wait, I’m a woman commenting on cricket. Aaaaah.

Cosmo says..

Cosmo says that single women in prime years of their youth are usually depressed and working too hard, hence they feel an emotional void in their bodies. This they compensate by having way too much food. Now I believe Cosmo. Cosmo's my Bible. Because it's finally happening! Life lately is just about food. I need something when I wake up, then I storm around the house making appropriate noises so that the cook gets the 'be quick' message clearly, then for dinner I eat more than what the 2 men in my house eat, and then I fix another dinner, not a 'snack' darlings, while I'm awake at night. And then at times like these, I wait for the Bakery to open which is at 6 30. Fuck. I have never ever eaten so much. Do I have an emotional void??? Barrrrfff. There could be some truth in this argument. No matter how much I try to convince myself that this is all because I don't eat lunch and do so much running around the whole day, such as sitting on my ass and watching sit coms on the laptop, it still feels weird.
Now I can proudly say that I have never asked a man if I look fat in this or that. But I think it's time. Because very soon, I'm going to get very fat. I can see it happening. This girl I knew used to make fun of fat people and then she just bloated up. Now I don't exactly make fun of fat people, but if someone has pissed me off and they are fat, then I won't let him/her forget their body proportions for the next 2 months. Oh god I'm cursed.
Or maybe I just feel hungry because there's usually no food in the house. Now flat mate No 2 drinks every night and hence needs company. So he calls some dumb bakra types to entertain him and those chuts finish off the food. And I wake up to see nothing in the fridge. I do admit it pisses me off but flat mate No 2 is such an easy going guy that it almost feels criminal to lay down my wrath on his simple forms of after dusk pleasures. Now earlier I had it real good because my ex used to rush to the Station freezing his balls off on the trusted Enfield. Now even he's useless because honey, since we aren't doing it anymore, what's the point of all these slave-like errand jobs right? Yes right!
Hmmmmm. Now it doesn't worry me that I'll get fat because it's genetic. I'll be thin forever. But hypothetically, if the laws of genetics tilt against my favour, I'll get fat and ugly by the time I'm 30. And Cosmo also says that women reach their sexual prime when they hit 30. So that means that I won't be my usual aloof I-don't-need-men-and-sex-to-invade-my-space person. So all the people and situations at my rejection table right now will com back to bite me in the ass. Because no one likes a fat and frustrated 30 year old woman unless you're legally supposed to by the laws of matrimony. This sucks. And my personal life experience has taught me if you reject something once, you always want it later and then you don't get it. Always. So this is so going to happen and my life is doomed. But look at the bright side. By that time I'll be rich enough to have waffles and cones everyday for breakfast and can be fat in style.

So cool. The Bakery opens in another 45 minutes....

I'm bored and bored and BORED. Everything is just another level of boredom.And the men are just so darned stupid. We had nothing to do today.. so funny flatmate called up 4 different car brands and asked them for a test drive. He started quoting budget of 20 lakh or something while the other flatmate pretended to be his secretary. So the whole day was spent in driving Corolla and then the Civic and how he just wants black because all his cars are black. Man. He's so stupid. Last I checked he had 4 grand in the bank and doesn't he realize that these guys are going to drive him crazy starting tomorrow with incessant sales talk. But that is planned as well. He's going to tell them both that he decided to buy the other one. But I admit it all sounded funny after the weed. And the Civic is a goodie car. God I thank the brilliant guy who loaded That 70's show on the computer. At least I don't have to grind my head to such crap. And Ashton Kutcher is so cute. That's one!! Or not..

******
Well this is really sad. I've been thinking about the whole men thing lately. All these idiots start treating you differently after you end something. But it's so tiring. To listen to them trying to get into my pants by pretending to be emotionally sensitive or something equally ridiculous. I have decided never to end my dry spell. There's just no point because I'll just hate them after some time. Like the ones before. After I realize that they are messy and expect me to feed them. Or after they get stupidly possessive at parties because there are other men around. Or whatever. It just sucks. Now I'm only going to get into something after torturing them for at least 1 year. Just to make sure. Yeah..that sounds like a plan.

Jai Maharashtra

So Pratibha Patil is the President!! That is just brilliant because now we can finally claim to be better than the Yankees as we've managed to grab the trophy for a better democracy. A better 'accepting' democracy. And now we can just forget about women being killed and raped and smothered at birth...because we have a woman as the fucking President you see, so the path to progressive development has already started. What is all this bullshit? Obviously journalists are paid to write crap but this recent thing of building a lot out of nothing pisses me off. The most fitting tribute all these retards could give to Kalam was to relay the ten different ways by which he made the Mughal Gardens look better. And how he loved kids. And how was so tech savvy that he pioneered Powerpoint presentations in Rashtrapati Bhawan. If the past workfolio is so 'extensive', then why the hell is everyone jumping about their seats over this Election. They can't even vote for this one for fuck's sake!
Evidently a lot of people are getting fooled into thinking that it is indeed a pretty big deal. So I've been forced to have 'female empowerment' flashing on my face from newspapers every day. And on the television everyday. And from people everyday.
There are national messages from Rina in Bhilai who thinks that 'now finally we women feel that we can do something for the country.' Fuck. If THIS was going to make you feel empowered, then we ought to have done this long back!
Anyone can see this Election and proclaim how easy it was to have a woman as the President of our country. That is because gender discrimination is not an issue for a hardened Marathi politician who has the right amount of subservience for Sonia Gandhi. But it's hilarious that people in this country will not send their girls to school and discriminate against women all their life... but a rubber stamp political post will make them empathize with a woman's right to 'do anything she wants.'And I shudder to imagine the sheer bedlam unleashed upon these 'gender sensitive' souls if Najma becomes the Vice President( which will probably never happen). Then we can have women on both positions and be the most advanced fucking country.
There is no point in ruminating on how dirty politics has become. But I still think of how fucked up Maharashtra politico is. In Delhi, I never gave a damn about this part of the picture and I could recall a time when the Shiv Sena didn't exist for me. But now I have no choice but to acquaint myself about where I stay. There was endless stress on the qualifications of Madam President. Of course she was the Governor of Rajasthan and had brothers committing criminal frauds. That is okay because politicians as a community do not take these charges seriously as everyone is doing it anyway so it's better to save her ass now so that you can save yours later. Wowie. These unspoken rules. So Godfather-like.
Her biggest qualification is that she's a Marathi. That in itself was enough to have 2 supposed rivals come together and support her candidature in political First Class. If some North Indian woman would have stood for this post, Bal Thackeray would have a billion issues with her 'character' but a Marathi woman can do no harm and hypocrisy is a way of life so....
And Sharad Pawar is laying base. He's currently killing farmers by dumping their produce in the Indian Ocean, something more ambitious will follow once there are enough of his brethren at the Centre.
She probably won't keep the garden that pretty. She'll be too busy paying back.


**************

Clubs here have a dead line of 11 30. That's really the tops because usually I'm done with my shower by 9 30. So I'm there by 10 something and I get my drink and the waiter is already walking towards me and smiling apologetically. Now I can't claim to be a tech type who works really hard all day and needs to go out at night, but it won't do me too bad if I can reinstate my right to wobble home early morning. Apparently people go to such places and make out and have booze and are largely 'immoral.' So protectors of Maharashtrian morality drop in at 11 30... make a couple of calls, pick up a lot of booze and a lot of money from owners, pick up some kids .. anyone they fancy really, to be let off in the morning, for charges of 'disturbance.'
Then they go park their cars outside the Railway Station or something equally fitting, drink merrily, trade stories about the kind of women at these parties, wearing skirts and what not and they all must be sluts no. After that they eve tease any woman passing on the streets or alternatively sit on the pavements screaming in abandon or zipping through the city in their cars at top speed. Then they go home and fuck their wives.
Really. We ought to learn from them. They can teach me so much. I'm going to stop wearing skirts.
But I don't really mind if I can't go out because it's not as if I'm warming myself in Ibiza or anything, but it would be good if I can manage to get food at night. These bastards roam around the city at night and are shutting hotel coffee shops. And everything else. So too many nights are trailing off with empty cigarette packets and endless fridge checking if something has miraculously turned up. Crap.
So we are just waiting for these good fellas to be paid off sufficiently by the various clubs in the city. And that the alcohol revenue increases by 20%...which is why this revolution against Western morality is happening in the first place. So that I can still wear skirts and watch midnight happen.

Glory box

I’m heading off to days of unending penury, play lists that don’t change for weeks, bhindi for lunch and big goofy smile, never letting the curtains sway an inch and then step out after a week cursing the rain….but forced to tolerate nature because I have to buy pot yes, or rather force my male friends while I tap my feet like a prized brat, parties with dress codes of halter and jeans where I know everyone and everyone knows me, and we all mingle with enemies and past lovers as if nothing ever happened and we are so gloriously over it, butter chicken at 4 in the morning, and screaming out loud for the hundredth time because he misplaced the bob marley cd AGAIN! And cribbing everytime I have to get out because I’ll be dripping wet when I’m back, muddy feet, stupid people, pepperoni a million fucking times, people refusing to let me put jazz, and when I do, a faint Radio Mirchi hits my ears, should I kill them or not? Should I go to Pondicherry? Can I afford Dupleix right now? Are Chennai cabs safe?

So I’m confused. There’s not too much time left for me to be denied this option altogether so I’m good. Not too much mind numbing psycho sessions on this time. I’m going to be calm and bring it ON. And I’m going to meet my dog… happiness! That’s the only bright light right now, of course, perfectly ignoring the possibility of him refusing to recognize me at all, which is when I kill myself and drive out of this purposeless existence. Hee hee. Never going to happen. He loves me. I think. No, he does. Yes, definitely. But I’ve changed my perfume! You retard, that doesn’t matter! Oh.

**

I have recently met someone very special. In fact, he’s so special that he makes me suspicious. Because I have come to realize that I’ve had way too many ‘special’ men in my life. BUT, we are not going to fuck up things this time with my commitment phobia issues, I mean, surely they are always going to be there … I think he understands all that I mumble. And he is a rock star. What more do I need? Um, let’s see. Him in the same city. But this is good too; I like the freedom of having and yet not having. And how I’m the only one who knows. So I will be the only one when it falls apart. Or alternately, when it gets better
**

Why do people hate dogs? And why is there no Hitler-like character to do away with such chuts? I imagine this huge SS army convoys who do secret round-ups in cities and night, ‘so, you think your neighbor hates dogs?’ ‘Do you have proof?’ ‘What? He doesn’t aww like an imbecile at that hutch ad?’
Ok, off they go. To fuck their happiness. So much more barbaric than killing Jews no? but this is good barbaric, and I’m all for it. This stupid woman keeps on calling me up to whine about me having a dog at my place. I don’t want to show her the picture like it is or anything but she’s pushing me to it. Considering she’s a ‘friend’ and he’s my ‘everything’ for the last 3 years, no Ford Ikon for guessing who I’m going to opt for. Do I tell her to throw her Ipod in a bin when it starts playing Shakira and polluting the environment of my house? Or do I tell her to stop buying everything I buy.. perfume, lingerie, freakin’ lamp-shades! So she’ll have to live with it, he’s so NOT going into my room when she’s around. She can just order her pizza and get fatter and get over her phobia already. Mmmmm. Possessiveness brings out the best in me.

**
Yesterday I met Jat boy. Why I call him Jat boy belies understanding because he’s not a Jat and quite cute looking, but I find it amusing that he makes it a point to explain his entire ancestry everytime I call him that. Ha ha. Cheap thrills.
I don’t pity him. No. He’s much more stronger than that. But I feel so goddamn spoilt and useless whenever I meet him. Where do people get their strength from? And still be so nice, and still be the way men were actually supposed to be. I know Jat boy likes me since forever. But there’s always been someone or the other barring his way. But it was nice that he didn’t try this time. And how he never tries because he knows that never works with me. Just talked about how we hate ‘kids’ and how THIS is going to decide the next ten years of my life. I love the fact that he asks, “ how are things at home” in such an uncharacteristic and non-pitying manner. And when I smile and get vague, he bangs on Led Zep as if nothing happened. Yes, I need more simple people around me. And not “ guess WHATTTTTT!! Dad is buying me a Fiesta. Ab toh full on party!”
Errr, okay!

**
I’ve never written about him. Too much bitterness for a long time now. But it’s over. And now it feels good. Now I can see all that he did. And all those times when I drove him mad, knowing that I’m too difficult for him. And too neurotic, but he tried a lot. Really tried a lot. While I gave up ages ago. I just wish he never gets to know that. He saw something different and it broke my heart. Because we were never there. I taught him too many things he didn’t need to know. He wouldn’t need all this.. because I’ll never let him be with a woman like me. Ha. Even he needs someone simple.
I’m not trying to take myself too seriously here…I just saw the other side of things and was running away from it for almost an year.
Now that I've reached a 'new chapter' as Jat boy puts it, there are too many songs for him… and a box full of paints

I need to get out of this shit-hole fast. Like on the double pronto run with all you got kind of fast.I should probably have a separate blog just about my parents. Hmmm.I have really thought about it.. there's enough crap to last upwards of about 1000 posts per month. Anyways so mom is again having one of her shitty days and there's no one else around other than her dumb daughter so let's screw up her week right about now. Now I've been unwell for a week and as it is don't bother about her much. That's what the scene at 'home' is like.. we try to stay out of each other's way. Because none of us can communicate on a seemingly affectionate or even civil level to each other anymore, so we just ponder on stuff like UP elections or something more crucial. It's so much better to talk to my dad, he's much better at this superficial stuff. And he always shuts up when I start shouting. So it never gets out of hand. It's just go-fuck-yourself-first silence. But he's not around during the summer so I'm stuck with this bullshit alone.
Like every summer I thought I'll work, socialise, crash late and basically fuck out of this blasted city before too much damage takes place. But nooooooo sirreee....that never happens. So I'm the only one who gets calls from people screaming because they are effing bored. And they want you around so that they can hit you like they did in school. And you come back thinking maybe it'll have cooled down by now.. but there she is, waiting for me. Waiting to fuck my head with all the crap she's been thinking of all day. And interestingly, absolutely nothing she'll say is going to be about 'her'. It's going to be about me. About how I should just get out of her life and stop siding with 'him' and that she's had it with people scheming against her happiness. This drivel used to scare the wits out of me in school. I used to cry and think oh I'm such a bad person, My mother hates me and this doesn't happen to any of my gifting-cards-on-Mother's-Day friends. But this is like a joke now. So obviously I walk out on her and put on my music. While she bangs on it for half an hour and then calls him to abuse him. He doesn't pick up.
And we are so fucking normal. Tomorrow I'll go and research on torture in Uzbekistan. While she's have a bloody kitty party in Gk and talk about some new variety of curtains all the way from Bali. And I'm writing this with Jack Johnson asking some girl to eat his banana pancakes and to pretend that it's the weekend. WTF???!!
It was so much easier when you blamed yourself for all this. When all they say defines your opinion about yourself. But I've grown up now and see myself in seclusion from nights such as these. No I'm not a whore because I was watching a transexual documentary on Discovery. But now it just sucks. But now we know this and it's too much anger. Too much anger at having to tolerate situations because you still want to help people who are too chickenshit to ask for help with love. So I'm in my room trembling because I'm angry enough to kill a dog. And she's crying in her room wishing she was in 1984. And jack johnson is still playing....

I'm just feeling so stupid. And not even that kind of stupid where I feel like rambling politics just so that I feel as if I'm thinking.Doing something.
Aaaaaaarrrghhh.I started another one of these crappy things today. God. My new office is in some godforsaken part of Safdurjung. It was so unbelievable, I just kept on staring at the car which just kept on going on and on and on in small clustered alleys. I was so pissed!
And I entered to see the place swarming with firangs. Where was I? Some Goan beach shack full of Russians? Err...Australians apparently. This chut who sits very close to me and still talks in such a whispery tones as if all of them are drafting the fucking Constitution of Africa. So I just felt so dumb going like..Errr what? What?
And what's with these firangs and heat tolerance? I would have expected them to rip their hair out and run like banshees. But these guys were so effing ridiculous...just kept on typing furiously while I'm holding my head in my hands, cursing myself for wearing anything at all! Why couldn't I just come here in a bloody sack like the female sitting next to me? She's working with such concentration, as if the AC not working doesn't affect her at all. I could just imagine those fat lawyers in Supreme Court ordering yet another samosa and cribbing about the heat while the AC is blasting in his face like a bloody cooler.
Anyways, I'm just annoyed and have nothing to say. I just want people to serve alcohol in Greek restaurants and do away with people who don't switch on the fucking AC when it's right on top of your head!

Why the fuck are you not wearing leotards?

As I sit in the green room sipping Darjeeling tea(Yuck!) and nursing my legs that have really reached another place today, I'm thinking of the one thing that I'll never do again. Not the way it used to be anyways. I keep myself busy with the law thing and travel and cook( ya righhht!)and meeting people and loads of other superficial stuff. Maybe it was the car ride in the rain at 8 in the evening... or another one of those rotating times. Back to remind you that you ought to stop faking it for a bit and cry out loud once more.
Some time back I met this girl who was off to Columbia to study dance. My fangs were starting to show before my friend detected trouble and diverted the topic. But whose fault is it? The fact that she could fight against her folks and I could not? And that now I think I'm stronger than steel but in reality, am fucked up because of the classiest of the issues..parent screwing up your 'dream'. I never dreamt to be a dancer because I just knew there was nothing else I COULD do that well. And if you get trained in it 5 years short of your actual life span, then it just seems like the natural thing to do. Even today, there's never a moment when I've felt happier. And more in my element than when I'm dancing.
But if you're weak once about asserting yourself then it doesn't come back to ask you if you're ready now. Am I ready now? Ha. I'm probably not even as good as I used to be. And it's too late now to pick it professionally again. So I'll just be yet another girl who cries in a corner after the lights are put away..

But today is Sunday and depressing posts are reserved for the rest of the week so I'm heading on to the most worthless realm ever..The only list that'll ever matter.
Muzak for the perfect night..

1. Becoming Insane,Juice,Deepy Disturbed,Out of Space - I'm not going to write about these songs because it's pointless. When he starts to go insane..insane...va va vrroooom!

2. Ghost song - Everyone finds it weird that I start hooting when this track starts. I just love the beat, it's perfect for the hip roll.

3.I miss you, Bjork - Fuck. I swear I'll marry the DJ who plays this song. Ever. Even if he's a Paki or something. It makes you feel like a diva.

4.Bossa Per Due ( Nicola Conte) - I heard this album in Amsterdam just at the right time. The sort of joint where no one goes to 'parteeeee' their balls off. It's the kind of stuff people ordinarily wouldn't imagine dancing to, but the same people dance to Salaam E Ishq so.. Bossa Nova is my favorite style right now, it's beautiful.

5. Haute Couture(Paris) - Awesome stuff. Like house infused bossa nova. And the bass...Jesus!

Earlier, I only used to love dancing to rock and roll but there's way too much of that to write here. Rock is like my comfort music, even though now I'm too experimental and am branching out in so many places, if I ever have another break-up, I'll still see it off dancing to Born to be Wild. Just like last time with my homies. Hee hee.

***


I do realize that I'm a bit late to get the drift. It's was so expected to see all these Mushroom fans to go like' Where's the psy man?' But the best artists are the ones who don't shy away from moving on from their genre, even at the cost of their money-yielding audience who just want them to roll out collected hits every year so that they die happy. But Infected Mushrooms have really done it with this. Rap..way too much guitar. Down with closet minds. It's fuckin beautiful.

Kremlin Masala

One of the most wonderful things in life is to have something fitting into your expectations as if it was truly made for them. Most of us love to proclaim our no-expectation stance in life quite often, but I've always considered that to be absolute drivel. The reason people can't stand each other, quit jobs, fuck behind each other's backs is because you expect. Make up these stories in your head of what you think you deserve. And conveniently forget that nothing happens if you simply park your ass over it. And that's why Russia's been swimming in my head all day.
That is the only country I've been to which conforms to your expectations to the hilt. Yes, you expect the chain-smoking, not-talking, doubtful-if-even-breathing taxi driver to take you somewhere in a forest full of snow and bury you in the ground after a painless death. Just like that.
Or expect to get picked up and taken onto red velvet embossed secret rooms of the Kremlin. To pour out your secrets. And then promptly be shot in the head. Surrounded by men smoking cigars and drinking vodka, looking flushed pink against the weirdest chairs you've ever seen in your life. The streets are big enough for a war to be fought there. And absolutely nothing is small. It's all fucking big baby. The perfect embodiment of a fucked up Socialist Union.
It's beauty lies in it's unpretentiousness. I mean, hell, we are stressed out so we'll drink from 9 in the morning out of the bottle. And if by some freaky chance we invite you to our home,where you dared to refuse alcohol, then you're thrown out. And we'll smoke too and won't talk to dumb frikkin tourists calling them mate and all that jack, asking them the weather. These people are real.And so is their country.

Most Russian politics is thread-bare. They've hated and liked the same people. They don't love anyone and that's brilliant.Lol. We'll make the weapons, kill dissenters, get public money accumulated and hire the craziest architects to make every structure look wonderfully bizarre. And we'll screw our own people because that's what every country does anyways so please let's not be two-faced about it.

Although it's very sad that Litvinenko got killed. But his death interests me more.It's exactly like those crime novels you used to read as a kid, except that no one died from radioactive isotopes back then. Although it's perfectly cool to crib about something like the KGB after you've joined it, and talk about how you were ordered to kill influential Russians. It's also a bit funny because the world knows that already. This information is as ground-breaking as the fact that Bush can't place Iraq on a map. Which he can't, he just bombs it, with no mistake.
What really got me amused was Russia refusing extradition rights to the British Government for Andrei Lugovoi, the man who's apparently behind the murder.
Ok, first, he's way too hot to kill someone. Or, at least to let people know he did it. And also, Britain with it's policy of giving asylum to anyone and everyone who screws around in any country. Pakistanis, German,Indian,American and British corporate and political offenders are wrapped up like babies in the UK.
And only the Russians had the gall to tell these hypocrites to go fuck themselves good.
What's truly classic is the statement that murder proceedings on Andrei are a 'possibility.' Har har.

How do they say kickass in Russian??

Not long enough for me

Is it not something
with jagged similarities

Of disjointed dreams
And foolish revelry

Of all that we thought
Would soon happen

Perhaps return back to brace
Your thoughts before

Or lather on to brothers
Of common stock

Not enough to waiver
Away from insistent latches

Distant for years now
From the maple breeze

Isn’t it time for another
Glorious mistake